Harry and Hermione, Sittin’ in a Tree?

When I first heard that J. K. Rowling had second thoughts in regard to the Ron/Hermione relationship (every time I opened my ISP, a link to the story was provided), I felt the burn of frustration. And just before Valentine’s Day, too! I refused to read any article on the subject at first. You see, I had wanted Harry and Hermione to wind up together when I read the series. (I have nothing against Ginny Weasley or Ron.) But I got over my thoughts of Harry and Hermione K-I-S-S-I-N-G. And now that the series is a done deal, to learn of what could have been frustrates me.

I’m sure I don’t have to tell you who they are, but I’ll do it anyway. From left to right, Rupert Grint (Ron Weasley), Daniel Radcliffe (Harry Potter), and Emma Watson (Hermione Granger)

Yes, I realize that as the author of her series, J. K. Rowling has every right to do what she wants with her characters—even regret that she did what she did. But this incident reminded me too much of a guy I liked during my senior year in high school who ignored me the whole year (though I tried to get him to notice me when he passed in the halls each day) until the day we cleaned out our lockers. He sidled up to me after saying hi and stood there in expectation that I would throw myself at him now that he was finally declaring himself available. I don’t know what led him to finally take notice, but I was frustrated by that point. “You pay attention to me now?” I wanted to say. “Where were you the whole year?” Too little, too late. At least he signed my yearbook.

Back to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, I finally broke down and read an E! Online article which has this quote:

“I wrote the Hermione/Ron relationship as a form of wish fulfillment. That’s how it was conceived, really,” Rowling, 48, told [Emma] Watson, 23. “For reasons that have very little to do with literature and far more to do with me clinging to the plot as I first imagined it, Hermione ended up with Ron.”

Wish fulfillment. I can relate. As far as the romances in the two novels that I’ve worked on in the last couple of years are concerned, I too had second thoughts. I had developed two characters I thought were cool, and therefore worthy of my heroines. Wish fulfillment? Probably. But two of my graduate advisors saw potential in other characters, characters I hadn’t planned to develop beyond the chapter each was in initially. Yeah, I can admit that now. Following their advice called for a paradigm shift.

I balked at the idea at first. With these two would-be love interests, I would have to work extra hard to make the romance plausible, since I barely knew these characters. Hard work—perish the thought!  Like Rowling said, my reasons for choosing these guys had “little to do with literature and far more to do with me clinging to the plot as I first imagined it.” So, I was tempted to ignore my advisors’ advice. I even wrote scenes between the guys I picked and my heroines. And you know what? There was no chemistry. In fact, there was downright hostility every time these characters encountered each other.

“Whoa, whoa whoa!” you’re probably muttering at me through the screen. “Aren’t you using your imagination? You can make these characters have chemistry.” That’s true in theory. However, once I knew what my characters were like, I realized a relationship between the guys I chose at first and my heroines would never have worked. I needed to get my wish fulfillment out of the way (especially since it dated back to guys like those at my high school—the ones that got away) and pay attention to my characters’ desires. I can’t live out my failed romances through them. They have their own lives to live.

So, I set off in a different direction—that in which my advisors pointed out. First, I needed to convince myself that each suggested relationship would work. Second, I needed to convince a reader. The jury’s still out on whether or not I’ve succeeded.

Are you a plot clinger? Or, as your story evolves, do you toss aside the plot in favor of allowing what you know about the character to decide the outcome?

Rupert Grint, Daniel Radcliffe, and Emma Watson photo from hdwallpapers.in. J. K. Rowling photo from Wikipedia. Heart image from absolute3d.net.

Slow Dance

Back when I was an undergrad (and humans had just learned how to work the sundial), I didn’t dance on a slow song at dorm or frat parties with just anyone. The dude had to meet at least a couple of the following criteria:

(1) Hotness
(2) Someone with whom I’d made significant eye contact during the evening (and by significant, I mean 15 seconds)
(3) Hotness
(4) Three Greek letters on his T-shirt (or at least be the leader of his own fake fraternity)
(5) Enrollment at the school
(6) Hotness
(7) Cigarette-less. I didn’t care if he smoked. Just put it down for five minutes, please, wouldja?
(8) Someone I thought was cool
(9) Hotness

Ah, those were the days when my shallowness was at its height. (I can’t say I’m very deep these days.) But the selection criteria often depended on the song. If it was a favorite, I was not so choosy about my companion in the dance. Getting to dance was all that mattered.

A dance comes to mind as I contemplate the relationship between the heroine of my novel and a would-be love interest who also is a point of view character.

Dance is the metaphor often used for two people moving toward love. So I appreciate authors who incorporate relationship-building dance sequences in their works. Take Jane Austen. I can’t help thinking of her, because Professor VJ Duke mentioned Pride & Prejudice on his blog recently. (Waves to the Professor.)

In Pride and Prejudice—and I’m thinking not just of the book, but of the 2005 film adaptation starring Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen—dance is not only an opportunity for social commentary, it is a declaration of war.

If you’ve seen that movie, cast your mind back to the scene at Mr. Bingley’s mansion. Mr. Darcy (Macfadyen) has asked Elizabeth Bennet (Knightley) to dance. But this isn’t just a dance—it’s a battle. She’s thinking of how much she dislikes him, but can’t snub him—an act of social suicide. He’s thinking of why he shouldn’t like her. After the opening salvo, their conversation is polite but barbed—a thorny rose. The tension continues as each retreats to his or her side. I love this dance, because during that sequence the others in the scene fade away, leaving just Darcy and Lizzie. Neither looks happy, because neither will give in.

Ah, I love that stuff, though some might judge such a scene as too subtle. But I love the slow build toward romance—a delicate pas de deux. I tend to lose interest in stories where the love is as instant as oatmeal. I’m not debating an author’s right to go there. However, if I already know true love is in the room the moment a pair of eyes meet another, I’m outta there.

I’m not talking about chemistry. You can be attracted to someone in an instant. But in a novel, I like roadblocks. And since my novel is not a romance but contains romantic elements, I can throw all the roadblocks I want into the mix as long as they fit the plot. But I have criteria for the roadblocks standing in the way of true love.

(1) Hotness/Chemistry

I started to write Just kidding as if I were referring back to my earlier dance criteria. But as I think about it, hotness is an issue. If I write about someone who is conventionally hot (and my hero and heroine actually fit this convention, contrary to another novel I wrote), looks will not be the golden ticket that gains him or her his/her desires. Sorry. I’m quirky that way. This is not to say that I dislike books where the hero and heroine are both hot. On the contrary, I’ve loved many books with this feature. But what’s huge for me in this book is to show what lies below the surface. So physical attraction is something my characters seriously wrestle against.

(2) Misunderstanding

The tension between Person A and Person B must go beyond the tiff that a five-minute conversation can solve if only they would stop glaring at each other. There has to be a fundamental reason why Person B is the last person on earth (or at least the semi-last person) Person A would fall for. In fact, Person A considers several compelling reasons why Person B might need to be executed for the good of humanity. And I need to keep raising the stakes against their relationship. But there’s a third criterion.

(3) Abuse

I draw the line at physical or sexual abuse as a step in the dance toward love. Sorry, but that’s my preference as an author and a reader. I’m not talking about the physicality of a battle-trained hero and heroine engaged in a battle to defend himself or herself or because he/she follows a commanding officer’s orders. Books about warriors need battles. If both are warriors, they know the stakes. I’m talking about books where the misunderstood bad boy shoves or punches the heroine or a rape occurs, but they fall in love within the space of 100—200 pages. I’m old school, so please don’t write me and complain if your book fits this description. I’m talking about my preferences here. Physical abuse or rape is a hurdle I’ve never been able to jump over as a reader and I refuse to try as an author. I’m of the belief that rape is not a crime of passion, but a crime, as is physical abuse. Sorry. Won’t go there.

I’m getting off my soapbox now and will return to my slow sizzle story. And now you can tell me what criteria you have if you include romance in your book. What books with romance do you love as a reader?

Knightley and Macfadyen dancing photo from kootation.com. Pride and Prejudice movie poster from Wikipedia. Instant oatmeal photo from talkhealthytome.com. Couple slow dancing from gograph.com.